The Inglorious Devolution
by Runneth Down The Middle Lane
Summary: Being a cyborg doesn't mean you're an emotionless calculator. Badass as he might want to appear, Viktor in reality is far more human than anything else. He needs his wifi, craves recognition, and of course like all awkward protagonists, has romance issues!
1. Return of KFC

**Chapter 1: The Return of KFC**

The bus that carried champions between Summoner's Rift and the Institute of War could only be described as cantankerous. Or perhaps more fittingly, cancerous. It was just an old beat up school bus with torn seats. One would imagine that the champions would have a more luxurious transport. And they did, but it didn't take long for it to get torn up and wrecked due to well... Champions being themselves. Besides, the fact that the buses were not inherently build on top of a magic leyline like the Institute was, repairs were very difficult. So the high council decided to just grab a school bus. At first people hated it, but in time the old bus managed to grow on everyone. Champions were loudly chatting with each other, beating each other up, or raving prophecies about the void. Standard stuff. But Viktor never really bothered to talk to anyone, and this time was no different. Instead, he was stuck deep in thought, running back the day's events in his mind.

The azure shards of the blue team's Nexus floated into the air, before forming a red sign facing Viktor's team.

"DEFEAT!"

The announcer's voice boomed like thunder in the cyborg's metal head, but he had gotten used to it by now. He still remember a time of peace in his life. Sure, Zed still tore him a new one each time they fought back in those days, but at least he was actually wanted. That wasn't to say he was unwanted. No, he knew better. He knew from browsing r/ViktorMains that he was very well loved. It was just that sometimes he wished the pros would play him. And no, he didn't mean that bullshit where he only gets picked into Lucian mid. Sure he was a counter pick to the mid lane purifier, BUT SO WAS EVERY GOD DAMNED MID IN THE GAME. Lucian's win rate mid was literally worse than Ryze's... Ryze... There was another name lost to time. He was the new Yorick, the new Urgot, the legend of a meme.

But that didn't matter anymore. He just wanted his spotlight back. It was so good back then. Rylai's was a strong item, and his first hexcore upgrade wasn't almost an entire champion kill more expensive... Ah, those were good times. LCS, LCK, LCEU whatever the fuck they called it in Europe, and of course, Worlds. Viktor, the wave clear god. Viktor, the AP tank shredding hyper carry. Viktor, the jack of all trades, master of all except for mobility mid laner. Viktor, the victor. Everything was perfect... Until the nerf nation attacked. It didn't seem like too much, but it hurt, it left it's mark. And after he fell out of meta, Rito left him to the gutter. His own winrate sat next to Azirs on . That was how low he had got-WAIT WHAT?

The Machine Herald almost dropped his phone in shock. Unable to contain his flame for what his phone was displaying, he yelled in anger.

"KFC GETS ONE MINI REWORK AND HIS WIN RATE GOES TO 51%?! CYKA!"

Some of the other champions looked over, but none paid him too much attention. His outburst was considered tame for the Institute of War. One certained champion however didn't look away, and that one in particular bothered the cyborg: Azir. Viktor only sighed, rubbing his temples.

"What do you have to say, comrade?"

Azir looked Viktor straight in the eye. Then he scratched his chin and cleared his throat, as if about to make the most important announcement ever. Yes. The fate of this world rested on the Shuriman Emperor's next words...

But he didn't say anything. Instead, he waved his arms, and a pair of sand soldiers held up a magnetic whiteboard with the words "Win Rates" written on the top. There were three magnets situated at the bottom: a strange red goat with a beard, a blue balloon with eyes, a random tin can, and an immaculate portrait of a golden bird. Viktor stared.

"How come only your portrait looks decen-"

Azir shushed Viktor, pointing to the board, slowly moving his own magnet from 46% to 51%

"SHURIMA RISES ONCE MORE!"

Viktor screamed.

Then he opened the window by his seat.

Then he jumped out of the bus.

 **AN: The next chapters will be longer, this is mainly a test run to see if you guys like this. Reviews mean a lot to me, so feel free to leave one! That's all for now, I'm running it down mid!**


	2. An Ally Has Disconnected: Part 1

**Chapter 2: An Ally Has Disconnected: Part 1**

Viktor sat on a couch in his room at the Institute of War with his custom built pc with orange LEDs in front of him and his full metal body covered by cotton pajamas patterned after the red star fleet command uniform from Star Trek. If his attire was any giveaway, his room was nerdy as fuck. Posters plastered the walls in a mural of gaming and sci fi: Deus Ex, The Matrix, Transcendence, Inception, Superman 64, Overlord, Star Trek, Overwatch, Voltron, Firefly, Warhammer 40k.

Staring at the Superman 64 poster, his head still spun from his earlier stunt with jumping out of the bus. But by the power of plot convenience, he suffered no lasting physical injuries, only a small dent to his pride. But ah he knew his sour mood was nothing a bit of vodka and an episode of The Big Bang Theory couldn't fix. He honestly wondered sometimes how it would be like to live in a world with no communication technology. No internet, no TV, no radio, not even a measly telegraph line. Whenever his mind wandered to this dark place, it always came to the same conclusion; he would rather die than live without TV and Internet. After all, how was Viktor supposed to harass Jayce by hacking his Facebook account if Facebook didn't exist?

The Machine Herald only chuckled at his own silliness. Why should he even worry about impossible what ifs. The internet was a constant, like death and taxes. He growled at that thought. Death and taxes only served to remind him of human mortality and adult responsibility, both of which terrified him, though adult responsibility slightly more. He always associated that term with... he shuddered. _children._

It wasn't that he hated children, but rather he just couldn't imagine having his own.

At that moment in his mind's eye, he saw a small toddler wearing a metal mask identical to his own. The toddler walked up to him, staring him in the eye.

"Viktor, YOU are my father!"

"NO, THATS IMPOSSIBLE!"

He quickly blinked away that terrifying thought, opting to just start torrenting the latest episode of The Big Bang Theory.

One small issue: his web browser wouldn't load.

"Cyka? What is this bullshit?"

His eyelights narrowed as his gaze shifted to the bottom right corner of his screen.

"No connection? BLYAT! Those capitalist pigs at Rito must have figured out I was illegally torrenting shit!" (illegally torrenting, that must be redundant!)

He pounded his metal hand into his table. The table, due to being four inches of solid metal, dented by a value approximately equal to zero. Viktor's will was like the table in a way; it would not yield. Furiously, he dashed to his dresser, reaching through his underwear before pulling out an Alienware laptop. Booting it up, he attempted to connect. Alas, the yellow triangle of "NO INTERNET!" taunted him once more. But he would not falter. Running to the bookshelf, he pulled out a large dic

-tionary, and opened it... revealing a Razor Gaming laptop. But again. No success. Despite being a technological genius, Viktor had somehow forgotten that switching devices doesn't solve broken wifi. But he didn't care about logic right now; he was blinded with anger at the Rito Gods, wondering how the fuck such a well funded place like the Institute could lose wifi.

They say stupidity is trying to do the same thing again and again, while expecting different results. Viktor however, was not stupid. He found about 10 more computers, and tried to connect them. Of course, he expected none of them to connect, and none of them did. So then why did he try in the first place?

Uh...

Well...

That's a good question.

Any other other questions?

No? Good.

Yes? I don't care, moving on.

Where were we again?

Oh yes.

Viktor felt his left eyelight twitching as he stared at his twenty something screens, all burning one phrase into his mind.

"InstituteChamp, connected, no internet."

His eyes soon narrowed as he realized that Rito likely did find out about his illegal activities, and took his wifi... Wait that made no sense, Vi could go around punching people in the face with little reprecaution, so why the hell would they care about some nerd trying to pirate shows and movies? Yeah sure, it was harder to stop Vi than to cut off his wifi but still... Wait. There were only twenty four screens. He knew he had one more laptop. Yes, it was a stupid idea, but so long as he was disconnected, he wouldn't be able to do anything productive anyway, so hey, worth a try!

"Jarvis, Play the mission impossible main theme."

"Yes sir."

A synthetic voice ripped straight out of Iron Man came from Viktor's surround sound, followed by the opening notes of the Mission Impossible theme.

Getting up, he tiptoed into his closet, as if trying to avoid suspicion. Unfortunately, tiptoeing quietly is a bit hard when your feet are completely metal. But Viktor didn't care, he felt like a badass...

Then he tripped on one of his laptops, destroying it in the process as well as leaving a dent in the floor in the shape of his mask. Cursing, he jumps back up, fishing on the top shelf for something. After a bit, he walks back out, a key in his hand. Walking across the room, he makes sure not to destroy any more of his shit. Whipping his head around, he makes sure he isn't being watched, before tearing a nearby calendar from the wall, revealing a safe!

Jesus Christ, we're going through all the cliches here aren't we?

Doesn't matter, it's comedy. Bad comedy sure, but it's comedy nonetheless, which means I get to use cliches, tell logic to fuck off, and have out of character characters without being called a shit writer.

In any case, the cyborg inserted the key into the lock (insert sexual innuendo) and opened it revealing...

A CHROMEBOOK?!

Viktor cringed back at the unholy sight, before roughly grabbing it and flinging it out of his window.

_

Azir was on his nightly stroll, quite content with himself. That pun he made earlier was absolutely killer, and getting to see the tinman pleb jump out of the bus was a plus. His thoughts however were interrupted when he heard glass shattering, as if someone just broke a window on the fifth floor. Puzzled, the emperor looked up...

The last thing he saw before the world fell to darkness was a Chromebook zooming at him at the speed of full attack speed URF Jhin.

 **AN:**

 **Shade0fSilver: Thank you so much! As for comedy, A New Dawn for Runeterra has plenty. I use it** **excessively** **however, because my story is not meant to be taken seriously. The plot is only a device to set up jokes xD.**

 **Abdou Senkigan: Well, I did :P**

 **I actually lost my wifi, which inspired this chapter. However, since this was the only offline doc I had, I used it to type out my lab conclusion.**

 **The equation relating mass and acceleration given an applied force is k = ma. K is a constant in this case, with the only variable affecting acceleration for this applied force being mass. That equation is k/m=a. Since mass is in the denominator, high mass results in a smaller value for acceleration. Thus mass and acceleration are inversely proportional. The value K is in kgm/s2(N). It is the force of tension that is pulling the mass forward. In theory then K = Fg = 1.96 N. However our average K was 1.69 N. It is seen that as mass increases, F-K also increases. F-K then is most likely friction. Thus with greater mass, there is more gravitational force, increasing friction. Thus mass and friction are directly proportional. Since acceleration decreases as friction increases, then friction and acceleration are inversely proportional.**


	3. An Ally Has Disconnected Part 2

Swain.

A tyrant.

A pirate.

A Nazi Stormtrooper commander who didn't understand that invading Russia in the winter was a bad idea.

Or in other interpretations, a Russian commander who drove off the DemNazians during the battle of Swainlingrad.

Swain.

Conniving.

Meticulous.

Utterly despicable.

Swain. The ruler of one of the most feared and powerful nations in Runeterra.

Swain. The cancerous in game sustain tank who, along with his good buddies, Vladimir, Rhaast, (and Aatrox, but no one plays him), gets free wins because people forget that grievous wounds exist.

Swain. The "I don't fucking care that you bought grievous wounds, my dot scalings are actually higher than Malzahar's."

Swain. The-you get the point.

He has a reputation to uphold. He must be feared, hated.

For he is the Grand General of Noxus.

And he was currently watching Mean Girls on Netflix. Now, he himself loved the movie to death. Yet he understood that many other Noxians frowned upon this particular film, especially Darius and Draven. Personally, he knew Evaine loved it, and wished he could watch it with her. But Swain knew the Deceiver's gift of telling everyone any piece of information she got her hands on... Then again, people didn't believe her half the time... Though that didn't matter. Jarvan would jump at any excuse to make fun of him. Then again, if Evaine wanted that, she would have just told Jarvan some rumors... And it didn't seem like she had done that... Yet.

A knock rudely broke Swain out of his thoughts, who currently just wanted to be alone with his show.

"Go away or I'll feed you to Beatrice!"

A pomp laugh reverberated from the other side of the door.

"Then why do you always feed me whenever we're matched against each other Jerry?"

Fuck. Leblanc was here. Speak of the devil and she will arrive. Swain quickly exited out of the movie, switching to something more professional like... His eyes scanned the Netflix selection-AH YES! NO SHOW WAS MORE PROFESSIONAL THAN HOUSE OF CARDS! With his cover up, he was ready.

"Come in then!"

The door opened, and Leblanc walked through, squinting at the television with scrutiny.

"I thought I heard mean girls..."

"You heard wrong."

Swain replied bluntly.

"It was just an ad."

Leblanc's bullshit detector started blaring in her head.

"Jer. You're on Netflix. Netflix doesn't have ads."

Swain only shrugged, trying his hardest to act as casual as possible. Rolling her eyes, Lebanon waved a hand, feigning being convinced.

"Sure, sure thing Jer."

Swain only grunted, wishing dearly for the Matron to leave so that he could return to his show.

"Why are you here again?"

Leblanc seemed to draw back, a dash of surprise streaking across her face, before she regained her composure.

"Well well Jer, need I have a reason to visit my favorite Grand General?"

"Evie."

"Jericho."

"I'm the only Grand General."

Swain tapped his hand on the remote, growing impatient. Leblanc simply raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for Swain to say something. This was met with Swain rolling his eyes.

"Get on with it, woman."

A small frown crept onto Leblanc's face before she materialized a stack of papers in front of the general.

"Well, Grand General Swain, you have a few more papers people want you to go over. That's all."

With that, Leblanc walked out of the room. Despite her gentle closing of the door, there was something aggressive about the click clack of her heels as they faded away.

Swain frowned, trying to figure out the cause of the souring of the deceiver's mood. It didn't flee his perception that she had gradually called him more and more formal names... And based on his experiences with his mother, it seemed that the more formally a woman addressed you, the more fucked you were. Swain sat there a few more minutes in contemplation before giving an exasperated sigh.

Never mind that. He had better things to focus on, like the frozen screen in front of him.

Wait what?

Swain's expression soured. Not that anyone could see his mouth, but it was clear by the upper half of his face that he was not happy.

"No connection?"

He growled angrily, clutching his remote.

"Dammit Rito, I pay you guys five dollars a month for this and this is what I get? Let me watch my movie for once! I can only do so much paperwork before I want to throw all those important documents at Rammus's spinning shell!"

_

Back in her room, Leblanc reached into her cloak, pulling out a single black rose. It was beautiful, its stem and petals the darkest ebony, and a small charm in the shape of a raven was magically perched on the rose itself. Yes, there was no doubt it was beautiful. Regarding it with a cold glare, she dropped the flower onto her nightstand.

_

Jarvan The Fourth.

A Dragonslayer.

A Commando Man... thing

A- Yeah I'm not doing this again.

But you know, Jarvan, Exemplar of Demacia, wooo.

Gold boi.

Rich boi. Small loan of a million dollars.

In many ways, Jarvan was like Swain. He also had a reputation to uphold. One of honor, nobility, glory.

And he was currently watching Mean Girls on Netflix.

Sound familiar? Good, it should, and if it doesn't, then there's something wrong with you. In any case, the Crown Prince was having a good bit of private relaxation, when he heard the loud clanging of armor from down the hall. Only one man wore armor like that 24/7... Mordekaiser. What the hell could such a foul beast be doing in the Demacian wing? Surely nothing good.

Clutching his remote, he steeled himself as his door rattled from vicious knocks.

Mordekaiser...

A voice rang out from the other side of the door.

It wasn't Mordekaiser.

"MY LIEGE, I BEAR IMPORTANT PAPERS ON BEHALF OF DEEMACIAAAAAAAAA! YOUR FATHER WISHES FOR YOU TO SIGN THESE DEEMACIAAAAAAAAN PAPERS. HE MENTIONED SOMETHING REGARDING THE DECOR IN YOUR ROOM BACK IN DEMACIAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Jarvan immediately exited the movie, searching for something more professional...

I'll let you guess what he switched to.

Hint: It's House of Cards.

With that out of the way, he stormed out of his chair, dressed in a full suit of golden armor, and clamored over to the door. Opening it, he found Garen, dressed in a full suit of armor, a few slips of paper in his hands.

"Garen!"

"DEMACIAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

"THATS NOT MY NAME!"

"DEMACIAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

"What are you even try-"

"DEMACIAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

"Okay Garen, that's eno-"

"THERE IS NEVER ENOUGH OF DEMACIAAAAAAAAAAAA! FOR THE CAUSE!"

"... Garen please."

"DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCIIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Jarvan grabbed the screaming Garen by his massive shoulder pads, promptly supplexing him on the floor, papers flying everywhere. The fact that the floor didn't even dent was a testament to its construction. The fact that Garen stopped screaming not because he had been knocked out, but rather because he bit his tongue, was a testament to how thick the man's skull was.

After having gotten both into chairs, the two Demacian men got down to business. Garen shot Jarvan a hushed look, making sure the door was closed. Then, inching closer, he narrowed his eyes.

"Have you seen anyone with Lux recently? Is that Ezreal punk trying to get back with her?"

Jarvan sighed.

"Don't you follow her out all the time? How would I know?"

"I can only gather so much Intel!"

"Well, I see her hanging out with Annie, lately, but I highly doubt that there's any roman-"

"ANNIE! NOXIAN SCUM!"

"Garen."

"NOXIAN SCUM!"

With that, Garen ran to the door, and then through it. As in, the door was closed. Now there's no door in the doorframe. Because there also no longer exists a doorframe. Where that once stood, there was now a Garen shaped hole in the wall. The echoing shouts of "NOXIAN SCUM!" faded into the distance as Garen charged towards the Noxian wing, in search of a certain teddy bear totting child who also happened to have pyromaniacal tendencies.

Jarvan stared at the hole in his wall, then back at his television screen. Which was frozen.

Wait.

What?

It turns out, Jarvan and Swain share a lot in common, including a tendency to resort to yelling about throwing paperwork at Rammus's shell whenever things didn't go their way.

"AGHH! RITO! I USE A BIT OF MY SMALL LOAN OF A MILLION G, AND THIS IS WHAT YOU GIVE ME? I SWEAR ILL THROW ALL THESE DOCUMENTS ON MY FLOOR AT RAMMUS'S SHELL WHEN HE POWERBALLS OR SOMETHING!"


	4. An Ally Has Disconnected: Part 3

Swain was already nursing a mounting hypertension headache from the stress of all the events that had transpired. At least I think it's a hypertension headache. Maybe it was a stress headache? Or uh... a migraine? A back temporal lobe pickaxe hyperlobotomy? I don't know? Listen, I'm studying to be a computer engineer; it's not my fault if I can't differentiate the different types of headaches. I'm also too lazy to search it up. Anyway, Swan was nursing a very particular type of headache. One that was caused by what we refer to as "being done." "Being done" means that one is sick of everyone's shit and is all too willing to punch the next motherfucker that walks up to them. Swain felt "done" for the day, his patience at its end. So of course that meant he would storm down to the info desk and wring one of the apprentice summoners by the neck until they fixed the issue with their magic or something like that. Yes, the thought of that already helped in easing the throbbing pain in Swain's head.

However, the pain soon increased as repeating shouts of "NOXIAN SCUM" gradually grew louder and louder. Swain only rubbed his temples, thinking his brain was just playing tricks on him. Rolling his eyes, he opened his door, heard someone yell "NOXIAN SCUM" right into his ear, got immediately hit with a force equal to ten Sion ults in one for all, and through the pounding pain everywhere, promptly concluded that his brain was, in fact, not playing tricks on him.

_

After exiting his dorm, Viktor was now moonwalking down the hall while listening to Cruel Angel's Thesis on his custom made earbuds. His earbuds which were implanted in his metal mask, and activated by an implant in his brain. But he wasn't proud of that, no. He was proud of the fact that they cancelled all outside noise when activated. Now, while this did provide the best fucking surround sound experience ever, it also meant that Viktor couldn't hear anything else. Yes, I understand that's that point, but I also want you to understand that it means he can't hear anything. Like, imagine playing league and having everything muted. You no longer hear any pings. Your already garbage map awareness has only further degraded. Your entire team is pinging you but you don't hear anything. Blitz hooks you over a wall into their Leblanc. You call your bot lane a pair of boosted monkeys. They tell the enemy to report you for hate speech. You have been placed into Iron IV.

Or, you can be an absolute Chad and 2v1 outplay their asses. But let's be realistic here. (Which was also exactly what one of the worlds casters said last year about Fnatic winning anything after their horrendous week 1 performance. - They went on to win some stuff before losing to one of the Korean teams.)

Anyway, tangents aside, the point is that Viktor had zero sense of awareness and was completely deaf to the booming screams of "NOXIAN SCUM" and was wholly unprepared when a very large, very hard, and very very in need of a shower object smashed into him.

Said object was

ur mom

That joke was terrible, immature, not funny, and will probably cause my already miniscule reader count to plummet even further.

But it was totally worth it.

_  
Jarvan, recovering from the anger of his wifi going out, decided to go and check out what Garen broke this time. Brazenly marching through the doorway-er the Garen shaped hole in the wall (and in the process, adding additional aesthetic via the outline of Jarvan's own massive shoulder pads) Jarvan peered down the hallway to find Garen, Viktor, and Lucius Malfoy all sprawled up against the wall… The crown prince felt like one of them was off, but decided to maintain his Demacian manners. "Ah, Lucius. Welcome to the Institute of War. I uh- was not aware that Rito was signing on characters from other properties as champions, but I look forward to facing you on the fields of justice!"

Lucius Malfoy stared at Jarvan like one would stare at a 0/15 Vayne who insists that "We have late game." He was very confused. Then he looked down at himself and screamed, before jumping up with a glowing red left arm. As you can imagine, this caused a lot of commotion.

 _Lucius, jumping, in surprise:_ "WHAT ON RUNETERRA WHA"

 _Garon, hiding his love of fictional magic so that Demacia doesn't send him to the magic gulag:_ "LUCIUS WHEN DID ROWLING GIVE YOU THAT?!"

 _Vichter, currently still very upset that Voldemort's snake is an actual person:_ "It must be some retcon blyat, like nagini being a furry."

 _Lucius, noticing his voice is completely off:_ "WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?! WHY AM I BRITISH"

 _Jarvis, also secretly a fan of Barry Pothead:_ "Weren't you always British?"

 _Lucius, very upset that his rival can't even recognize him:_ "CLOWN PRINCESS, I AM NOT BRITISH!"

 _Jarvis, realization striking him that this was his rival:_ "Clown Princess… Wait…. WAIIIT"

Recognition flashed in Jarvan's eyes, which promptly narrowed. "Jerry Swine… Your deception ends now. Stop pretending to be Lucius Malfoy before we get sued!"

"You think I did this? I am fairly certain at this point that I have been Ryzed…" Replied the Grand General.

Gasps filled the hall.

Earrape Wonderwall begins playing as rainbow rave lights flash, threatening to give small japanese kids seizures. An angle descended from the light. It was acute angle. Less than ninety degrees. The angle was soon followed by an Asian college student falling in. The student regarded the three champs (in editing I realized I forgot Garen existed. Oops. I'm not changing it because I still don't consider Garen an actual champion), before sighing. "Er, sorry uhhhh."

Who are you?" Asked Viktor, a mechanical masky eyebrow raised.

"I am God."

"Prove it then," challenged Jarvan.

"Ok." They turned to Viktor. "Remember how you were so upset about Azir being relevant? Well, I froze time for a year. And now…" The student threw on a pair of sunglasses. "Azir is back in the shitter, hell yeah! And you got buffed!"  
Viktor stood still for a moments, before pulling out his phone and pulling up There it was, Azir back again as a dogchamp. He was overcome with joy, but his emotion was too much for him to process, so his system did what it always did when he was mentally overwhelmed: locate the nearest window and jump out of it… And land on an unconscious Shuriman Emperor and a familiar Chomebook.

(That's a callback to Chapter two for those of you that somehow didn't get it).  
 **A/N: IM BACK! look forward to 1k word updates weekly.**


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